Extenuating Circumstances
by Tez
Summary: Alex's boyfriend isn't exactly Prince Charming, but there's someone else waiting in the wings...AJ
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: SVU. Never have, never will.  
  
A/N: I'd like to extend a thank you to the writers of SVU for helping me fill the hole in my heart left by the writers of JAG, who after nine seasons still couldn't get it right. Thanks for the distraction, guys!  
  
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La Toura Restaurant  
  
Manhattan  
  
John  
  
I pull out Emily's chair for her, resisting the childish urge to pull it out too far and let her fall on the floor. We've been on this blind date for less than twenty minutes and I'm already contemplating climbing out the bathroom window. While I realize that's a practice usually reserved for the female of the species, I'm sure that just this once, an exception could be made. The only thing this woman talks about is her job, which wouldn't be so bad if she weren't a dermatologist's assistant. So far she's analyzed the skin types of the doorman, the waiter, and the cab driver. She's also suggested a Clinique lotion to me because 'John, darling, your skin type is susceptible to dryness in the winter'.  
  
I get a brief respite from her one-sided droning while we order drinks. After our waiter is gone, she starts a running monologue on the skin types of our fellow customers and what services her office could perform for them. I'm almost asleep when one of her remarks catches my attention.  
  
"Now that woman over there, the blonde in the blue dress? She's gorgeous. I don't think we could do anything for her." She sighs heavily. "I wish we could bottle that and sell it. We'd make millions."  
  
Naturally, I can't help but look over at the woman in question. When I spot her, I nearly choke on my mouthful of wine. It's Alexandra Cabot, the city's most attractive ADA and the constant object of my silent affections. She's sitting alone, toying with a glass of wine and trying to pretend she doesn't care she's the only person at a table for two in one of the most upscale restaurants in Manhattan. If I didn't know her, I might fall for it, but I know poorly-concealed embarrassment when I see it. I've spent too many hours watching her not to recognize it. Not in a creepy, Jeffrey-Dahlmer way, of course; it's the modest aesthetic appreciation any man would have for a woman like Alex. Brains, beauty, and a sense of humor: how could I resist looking every time I get the chance?  
  
I consider going over to say hi, but I can't in good conscience leave my date. I don't want to bring her over and introduce her to Alex, since I'm hoping fervently that I'll never see Emily again. Trying to discreetly catch Alex's eye doesn't work; she looks from her watch to the window and back, but never in my direction.  
  
A beeping noise pulls my attention back to my date, who's reaching for her pager. She scans the little screen and practically jumps to her feet.  
  
"Oh, John, it's Dr. Marshall!" She's practically jumping for joy. "There's an emergency case of psoriasis in the ER at Mt. Sinai. If I go now I can assist with the treatment."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of keeping you from psoriasis," I reply, making a mental note to find out what the hell that is. She beams at me and grabs her purse off the back of the chair.  
  
"Thanks for understanding," she chirps, already heading for the door.  
  
"Do you want me to call you a cab?"  
  
She shakes her head, waving cheerfully. "I've got it. Nice meeting you, John!"  
  
"Yeah, you too," I lie with a smile, delighted to see her leaving. Once she's out the door, I sigh in relief. "To think people wonder why I'm single," I mutter to myself. "I divorced four different wives for less."  
  
Now that she's gone, I turn my full attention to Alex. She's still sitting alone and looking more uneasy by the minute. Deciding that I can't abandon a damsel in distress, especially one as lovely as Alex, I grab my wine glass and my trench coat and go over to her table. When I drape myself over the empty chair in front of her, she looks so relieved to see me I think she might cry.  
  
"Is this seat taken?" I ask, my tone calculated to show just the right mix of gentle humor and friendly concern. She smiles tightly at me in response.  
  
"Not yet. Probably not at all, since I've been waiting for –" she pauses to check her watch " – two and a half hours without so much as a phone call."  
  
I'm sure some of the shock I'm feeling shows on my face. "Someone stood you up, Alex? This guy must be a complete idiot."  
  
A surprised smile works its way onto her face, and she ducks her head to hide it. I can't help smiling in return. How in the world could some moron stand her up? Heaven knows if I had a date with a woman like Alex Cabot, I'd cut off my own left arm before I'd miss it.  
  
Well, it's his loss and my gain. I raise my wine glass with a wink at Alex. She looks puzzled but raises hers as well. "To being stood up," I propose. "May we always find better company waiting in the wings."  
  
She clinks her glass against mine, winking back at me. "Better company and a less pretentious restaurant?"  
  
I tilt my glass toward her in a wordless salute, taking a sip and then setting it down as I reach for my wallet. Pulling out enough to cover both glasses of wine, I drop it on the table, over Alex's protests that she can pay for her own, and pick up her coat. Standing up and holding her coat open for her, I ask, "How do a slice of pizza and a game of pool sound to you?"  
  
"It sounds great, John," she sighs, rising from her chair and setting her napkin down firmly. I can tell she's upset with whoever this no-show guy is, and I decide that I can't let her go home angry on a Saturday night. The two of us will just have to paint the town until she's over the jerk.  
  
Guiding her arms carefully into the sleeves of her coat and earning myself another dazzling smile in return, I snag my own coat as an afterthought as we head for the door.  
  
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Uptown Manhattan  
  
John  
  
Two slices of pizza and three games of pool later, Alex and I are wandering along the busy city streets near Rockefeller Center. She doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get home, and I'd be content if this night never ended. We stroll lazily down the sidewalk, watching tourists take pictures of the skyscrapers as hardened New Yorkers walk right past them without so much as a glance. The quiet is nice, but eventually I have to say something. I'm still burning with curiosity. There has to be a good reason why Alex would have waited for over two hours for a guy who never showed. That's not the Alex Cabot I know; I'd have expected her to leave after fifteen minutes and then proceed to make his life a living hell for the next week.  
  
"I still can't imagine a guy dumb enough to stand you up, Alex. I'll bet that's a once in a lifetime mistake."  
  
She sighs, sounding dejected. "Actually, it's his third time so far."  
  
"Three times?" I ask, incredulous. "In a row?" Man, this guy really is an idiot. To ditch out on Alex, the most breathtaking woman in the tri- state area, not once but three times? He must have been dropped on his head as a child. Repeatedly and forcefully.  
  
"Not quite," she replies, scuffing her toe against the pavement. "After the first one, there was a benefit party at which he wanted the two of us to 'make an appearance'." She makes little quotation marks with her fingers as she says the words. "That time he showed up, but he was an hour late."  
  
"Very fashionable," I say with a straight face. "Who is this guy, Giorgio Armani?"  
  
Alex giggles. "Actually, I think Armani is dead," she replies. "You probably know this guy, though. Todd McKenna?"  
  
"The defense attorney? Only by reputation," I reply truthfully. I don't bother to mention that his reputation includes the allegation that he thinks his good looks and sizeable fortune give him the right to treat women like dirt. After getting an idea of the way he's been treating Alex, I'm inclined to believe that charge.  
  
Alex is quiet for a moment. "Maybe I've been out of the dating scene too long," she says finally. "I miss the good old days, when a guy would ask you out and then actually show up on time at your place. He'd pick you up at the door instead of honking from downstairs, open your car door for you...all the good stuff."  
  
"If that's changed, then I don't want to go back to the dating scene," I inform her. "I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I don't think I could handle being expected to stand a lady up. It's not my style."  
  
"No," she says, giving me a thoughtful look. "No, John, I don't think it is."  
  
"And if I were to miss a date, through some strange accident of fate, I would adhere to the Gift Code," I continue, not quite ready to suggest to Alex that I wouldn't mind taking her out sometime. I've faced down sociopathic murderers with less anxiety than I feel at the idea of asking her out on a date.  
  
She raises an eyebrow in polite disbelief. "And what, pray tell, is the 'Gift Code'?"  
  
"We gentlemen have a specific set of gifts, which we are required to provide as compensation to the members of the fairer sex for putting up with us."  
  
"Like anniversary presents?" she asks, eyes dancing with laughter.  
  
"That, madam, is just the tip of the iceberg. Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays...the list is extensive, but the most important section is the one that describes making restitution for our indiscretions."  
  
"So, what does the code say about breaking dates?"  
  
"Well, the first offense requires flowers. Some guys just pick up whatever's handy at the corner store, but I prefer to pick out something special that will hopefully keep me from getting my rear end handed to me by the lady in question."  
  
"A wise decision," she laughs. "What about the second offense?"  
  
"Chocolate," I reply. "Lots of it. Preferably with the word 'Swiss' on the package. And of course, if one wants to avoid striking out after the third missed date, one has to produce something a little more impressive."  
  
Alex gives me a speculative look. "Jewelry?" she guesses finally.  
  
"Jewelry," I agree. "And given our man McKenna's tax bracket, if there isn't a little blue Tiffany's box on your desk Monday morning, you should kick him to the curb."  
  
She smiles weakly. "I'm pretty sure his copy of the Gift Code is buried under a pile of legal briefs on his desk," she replies. We're quiet for a moment, and I can tell she doesn't want to talk about this anymore. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something that will allow me to change the subject without making it blatantly obvious.  
  
"Alex, look." I point toward Rockefeller Center. "The skating rink is open."  
  
"Already?" she asks, standing up on her tip-toes to get a better view. "It's only the beginning of November." Grabbing my hand, she pulls me in that direction. "Let's go watch!"  
  
I chuckle, allowing her to drag me over to the railing. From there we can see the skaters. Most of them are just there to take a few turns around the rink, dressed in full winter gear, but several girls are out there in skimpy dresses and tights, jumping and spinning like Olympic competitors. It's these girls that Alex watches, longing plain on her face.  
  
"I always wanted to learn how to skate," she says, sounding wistful. "When I was a kid, my mom thought it was a waste. You know, why play in the snow when you could be studying? As I got older, I just never found the time."  
  
"What about now?" I ask. She gives me a puzzled look and I shrug. "Seems like we've both got the time."  
  
She glances down at her outfit; she's wearing a full-length coat buttoned over the short blue dress I was admiring earlier.  
  
"We're not really dressed for it."  
  
"There's no required attire," I remind her.  
  
"But I don't know how."  
  
I give her a rakish grin. "I'll teach you."  
  
She looks skeptical. "You'll teach me how to ice skate?"  
  
"I'll have you know I spent every childhood snow day on the ice," I tell her, pretending to be offended. "I could probably teach you a thing or two."  
  
She frowns, but I can tell she's dying to try it. Winking at her, I turn and walk toward the admissions counter. She hurries to follow me, a smile working its way across her face.  
  
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Rockefeller Center Skating Rink  
  
Alex  
  
I finish lacing up my rented skates, my fingers stinging from the cold. When I've tied the laces securely around my ankles, I put my gloves back on and look up at John. He's already got his skates on and is leaning against the railing, watching me with a smile.  
  
"I have to admit, I'm a little nervous," I tell him, standing up carefully. He takes my elbow, helping me to balance.  
  
"Just take it one step at a time," he advises, walking slowly with me over to the ice. He steps out first and I follow him with trepidation, hoping I'm not going to fall flat on my face and make a total fool out of myself. John wasn't supposed to be my date tonight, but I'm having more fun with him than I ever have with Todd, and I'd hate to ruin it on account of my lack of skill on the ice.  
  
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Rockefeller Center Skating Rink  
  
John  
  
"Okay," I say, taking both of her hands in mine. We're standing just inside the enclosed ice rink, Alex listening intently as I give her instructions. "The first thing you need to do is learn to skate forward. I'll skate backward and hold you up. All you have to do is take baby steps."  
  
"Baby steps," she repeats, nodding. "Got it."  
  
I push off slowly, pulling her with me. She toddles uncertainly forward, looking anxiously at her feet.  
  
"Look up," I coach her. "Just look at me. I won't let you fall."  
  
She looks up, giving me a nervous smile. "Okay," she replies, squeezing my hands. "I'm counting on you, John."  
  
"You can always count on me, Alex," I promise softly. Her cheeks redden, though I can't tell if it's from my comment or from the cold, and she falls silent. I push off again, a little faster this time, and she adjusts her pace unconsciously. We make it around the rink without injury and I breathe a discreet sigh of relief.  
  
"Hey, you did it," I tell her. She glances at the scenery and realizes we're back where we started.  
  
"I did, didn't I?" she asks, excited. Unfortunately, in her excitement she takes a bigger stroke than she should and loses her balance. She stumbles toward me and I catch her, digging one toepick into the ice to steady myself and sending a silent thank-you to my brother for teaching me how to hit on pretty girls by showing them how to skate. I wonder if he had any idea I'd finally try his trick thirty years later.  
  
"You okay?" I ask, setting her back on her feet. She's giggling, a warm, happy sound I'm not sure I've ever heard from her.  
  
"Maybe I'm not quite ready for the Olympics yet," she laughs, resting her hands in mine again. "Are you up for another round?"  
  
"Always," I reply, and we start off again, slowly but surely. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: SVU. If I did, it would be on more than once a day.  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! The next few chapters will go up soon, I promise.  
  
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Three weeks later  
  
Manhattan SVU  
  
John  
  
I do my best not to notice that Alex has just walked in, reminding myself that I'm supposed to be filling out paperwork, not eyeing our ADA. It's a losing battle. The night we ran into each other downtown was the catalyst that turned my benign admiration for her into a full-fledged crush. Now I can't even be in the same room as her without any number of improper thoughts running through my head, most of which would get me arrested for sexual harassment in the workplace and all of which would get me fired.  
  
She heads for Cragen's office, glancing in my direction as she walks through the bullpen. Caught staring, I give her a small smile. She winks in return and knocks on Cragen's door, disappearing inside a moment later. I slump down in my chair, all thoughts of paperwork fleeing in the wake of our mini-encounter.  
  
"What are you, taking a nap or something?"  
  
Ah, there's nothing like being interrupted by your smartass partner while you're trying to reflect on the love of your life.  
  
"What do you want, Fin?" I ask, annoyed.  
  
"We've got a lead on our suspect for the Ketzler case."  
  
Groaning, I grab my coat and follow him toward the parking garage. This means I won't see Alex again, probably for the rest of the day. I swear the world conspires against me.  
  
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That night  
  
John's Apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
John  
  
I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, cursing Fin, the unit, and our suspect, all of whom worked in concert to keep me at work past 10pm. It's a school night, for crying out loud. I'm completely exhausted, I have to be in at seven tomorrow morning, and true to my prediction I didn't catch so much as a glimpse of Alex after Fin and I left to chase our lead. Life's not fair.  
  
Fumbling to keep hold of my briefcase and hat as I search my coat pockets for the key to my apartment, I almost don't see the slender figure curled up on my front step. When I do see it, it's a moment before I realize who it is.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
Briefcase, hat, and keys forgotten, I drop to my knees next to her. I look her over quickly. She doesn't seem to be bleeding anywhere. From what I can tell, she's fast asleep.  
  
"Alex," I repeat, shaking her shoulder gently. "Alex, can you hear me? Wake up, sweetheart."  
  
Her only response is an unintelligible murmur as she shifts in her sleep. I realize that whatever her reason for taking a nap at my front door might be, it can't be the most comfortable place for one. Producing my keys from the inner pocket of my coat, I unlock the door and scoop Alex up in my arms. She barely weighs anything, which scares me. I thought she'd been looking a little haggard over the past few days. She's been losing weight she can't afford to lose.  
  
"First I'm gonna find out what's going on with you, and then I'm gonna feed you," I tell her unconscious form as I carry her into my apartment. I contemplate setting her down on the couch, but I know firsthand how uncomfortable it is to sleep there. It's probably on a par with the front stoop, actually.  
  
Instead I continue into my bedroom, thankful that I bothered to make my bed this morning. I lay her down on top of the comforter, realizing that one of the perks of her weighing so little is my ability to remove her heavy overcoat while she's lying down without too much trouble. I grab a spare blanket and tuck it securely around her. Once that's done I remove her shoes as well, taking both shoes and coat back into the living room. After they're put away, I go out to the hallway and retrieve my stuff, which I left there in my rush to get Alex inside.  
  
I put my briefcase down inside the door, hanging up my coat and hat and deadbolting the door behind me. I'm still not sure why Alex is here. In case there's someone after her, we're better safe than sorry.  
  
I go into the bedroom again, seeing that some of the tension has eased out of Alex's expression. She's still fast asleep, already tangled up in the blanket I wrapped around her. I watch her for a few minutes, wishing I had the right to lie down and snuggle under the blanket with her. Unfortunately, that right belongs exclusively to Todd McKenna, the officious jerk she's dating. I settle for stroking her arm instead, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss her fluttering eyelashes.  
  
"Wake up, sleepyhead," I call softly. "Rise and shine."  
  
She pouts prettily, her eyes still half-closed. "Don't wanna," she murmurs, shoving her face into my pillow. "I'm still asleep."  
  
I duck my head to hide my grin at her childlike response. "Alex, babe, wake up."  
  
She opens her eyes and blinks at me, abruptly realizing where she is. "John?" she asks, sitting up quickly and pulling the blanket tighter around her. "What time is it?"  
  
"A little after ten," I reply, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "When did you get here?"  
  
"Um, around eight, I think," she says, sounding apologetic. "I hoped you'd be home, but when you weren't I decided to wait for you. I must have fallen asleep. I wasn't sure where to go. I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have come –"  
  
"You're always welcome here, Alex," I tell her, resting a hand on her knee. "Even when you're not in trouble, although I'm sensing that in this instance, that's not the case. Speaking of trouble, would you like to tell me what kind of trouble you're in? You know, so I can cover for you when the cops show up. Oh, wait, I am the cops. Never mind."  
  
Alex chuckles halfheartedly at the joke, but her smile fades quickly. She looks up at me with wide, frightened eyes. "John, I'm sorry I intruded on your privacy. I really don't want to talk about this. I know that sucks and I shouldn't expect you to help me without telling you why, but I just needed to feel safe for a while. Is that – is that okay?"  
  
It takes me a moment to get over the mushy feeling Alex's words give me. When the lump in my throat dissolves, I reach out and clasp her hand tightly. "Of course it is. You're safe, Alex, I promise. I'd never let anyone hurt you. I wish you'd tell me what's wrong, but you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. You know if you need help all you have to do is ask."  
  
The fear is fading from her expression, replaced by a small but genuine smile. "Yeah, I know," she whispers, sounding a little choked-up herself. "Thanks, John."  
  
I squeeze her hand, deciding we need a change of topic before we get sappy. "C'mon. I missed dinner and there's a pizza delivery boy I'm trying to put through college on my tips alone."  
  
She laughs, sliding off the bed and following me obediently toward the kitchen. "Should we start negotiations over toppings?"  
  
"Let me guess: mushrooms and black olives."  
  
She looks astonished. "How'd you know?"  
  
I wink at her. "That's what you got when we went out last month." The phrase 'went out' leaves my mouth before I consider the implications, but Alex doesn't seem to notice. She's still shaking her head at my memory for seemingly insignificant details. I don't bother to tell her that if it had been anyone else, I never would have bothered to commit their preference to memory.  
  
"I can't believe you remembered that," she tells me, taking a seat at the kitchen table as I reach for the portable phone. I punch in the number for Leonardo's without looking it up; I know it by heart, and there's something else I'd much rather be looking at tonight. Alex's hair is tousled and she's wearing a plain green t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans, but she still looks incredible.  
  
"Details are my job," I remind her with a crooked smile. I give our order to Leonardo himself, who gives me his usual 'for-you-Mister-Detective- it's-on-the-house' spiel, and we hang up. Alex gives me an odd look.  
  
"Don't you need to give them your address?"  
  
"Nah," I reply, sitting down across from her. "Leonardo and I are old friends. I stopped an armed robbery in the restaurant right after I moved here. He won't take my money and I won't take pro bono pizza, so Mike profits."  
  
Her smile widens, but she still looks bemused. "Mike?"  
  
"The delivery boy. I told you, I'm putting him through college."  
  
She gives a surprised laugh, drawing a grin from me in response. She really is beautiful when she laughs. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Second verse, same as the first. I don't own the show.  
  
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John's Apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
John  
  
Alex has polished off half of the large pizza. I've pretty much stopped worrying about her appetite at this point. I've only had two slices, myself, but I'm saving room for dessert. I actually made it to the grocery store last week and picked up a pint of my one true top secret junk food indulgence: Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby. I offer Alex some, and her eyes widen.  
  
"You bought a pint?" she asks, sounding shocked.  
  
"They don't sell them any smaller than that," I explain, looking at the carton. It is a little big, I guess, since I just bought it for myself to eat. You'd need the extra ice cream, though, if your intention was to feed an army of junk-food-loving schoolchildren or Alex, who I'm actually starting to believe might be concealing that army somewhere on her person.  
  
"I'm aware of that," she says, rolling her eyes. "You went all the way to the grocery store and all you got was one lousy pint? After a bad day in court, I could polish that off in about five minutes."  
  
"You have got to be the eighth wonder of the world," I inform her. "Where you put all of this junk food, I'll never understand."  
  
"When you end up only having time for one meal a day, you can pretty much eat whatever you want," she reveals, grabbing the carton out of my hand. She glances down into it and then gives me an entreating look.  
  
"I need a spoon."  
  
I wink at her. "Well, come over here and get one, then," I instruct her, trying not to laugh at her pout. "What do I look like, room service?"  
  
She sticks out her tongue as she passes me. I wrap my arms around her from behind in retaliation, starting to pull her backwards toward me but stopping when she cries out in pain.  
  
"Alex, what is it?"  
  
"Nothing," she gasps through clenched teeth, hugging herself tightly. I rest my hands on her hips, all the humor gone from my demeanor. Slowly I pull the hem of her shirt up, cursing quietly at the sight of the large, painful-looking bruise on her lower back. Letting go of her shirt, I step around to stand in front of her. She won't meet my gaze, her eyes fixed on the tile floor.  
  
"Where else?" I ask, my tone as gentle as I can make it when all I can think about is doing serious injury to whoever dared to hurt her. "Alex, where else are you hurt?"  
  
"My knee," she says without looking up. "And my ribs, a little, but they're not that bad. He pushed me into a door and the handle hit me in the back. I landed on my knee when I fell."  
  
I reach out and cup her chin in my hand, tilting her face up so I can see her expression. She looks lost.  
  
"He who?"  
  
She meets my eyes for a moment, trying to decide whether I'll let this slide. She must realize I'm not going to do that, because she closes her eyes and sighs in resignation.  
  
"Todd."  
  
My first instinct is to find him and kill him, but the part of my brain that's still functioning rationally reminds me that my first priority has to be Alex's well-being: physical and emotional.  
  
"Look at me, Alex," I instruct her gently. She does, and I meet her gaze straight on, doing my best to project empathy and support instead of pity or anger. "You did the right thing by coming here. You're safe here and he's not going to be able to hurt you again. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," she agrees, reaching up impatiently to brush her tears away. I can tell she's embarrassed to be crying over this, embarrassed by the whole situation, but she really did do the smartest thing she could by coming to me.  
  
"Come sit down," I suggest, bypassing the kitchen table and leading her over to the couch. She sits carefully, conscious of her bruises. I double back to the kitchen and grab a cold compress from the freezer, handing it to her without comment. Sitting down next to her, I stare intently at my hands, trying to decide the best way to proceed.  
  
"Please don't tell," she blurts out finally. I look over at her, still silent, and she flinches. "I don't want anybody to know."  
  
"Are you going to report it?" I ask, careful not to sound angry or condescending. Working in SVU has trained me to tread lightly around victims of abuse. I'm having trouble labeling Alex as a victim in my mind, though. She's always been so strong.  
  
She glances down, avoiding my gaze. "It's my word against his. I don't have any proof."  
  
"Alex, those bruises –"  
  
"All stuff I could have done to myself." She swallows hard. "If I were his attorney, I'd rip me to shreds on the stand. It would come down to he-said, she-said, and most of the people in the legal system here respect him. It would ruin my career."  
  
I fight down my instinctive response, which is to find McKenna and kill him for putting Alex through this knowing she wouldn't have any legal recourse to deal with it. Instead I lean forward and wrap my arms around her. She's stiff for a moment, but she eventually relaxes into my embrace. Once her head is resting against my chest, I voice the fear that's at the forefront of my mind.  
  
"If he thinks he can get away with hurting you, Alex, he'll try it again."  
  
"It's about control," she replies, voice slightly muffled by my shirt. "I walked out on him. Now he knows he can't control me, so he'll stop trying."  
  
"I'm not convinced, Counselor," I say. She sighs.  
  
"Just promise me you won't tell anyone?"  
  
I promise her I won't. As much as it kills me to keep this a secret, it's her right to decide whether or not she wants to report the assault.  
  
We sit on the couch, both of us silently contemplating the situation, for almost fifteen minutes before something occurs to me.  
  
"Wait her," I tell her, going back into the kitchen. I return with the ice cream, now slightly melted, and two spoons. She smiles weakly, taking the proffered spoon. We both dig in, hoping to find the solution to Alex's problem somewhere between the fudge swirls and the peanut-butter- filled pretzels.  
  
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John's Apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
John  
  
I pull the comforter up to her shoulders, sharing a smile with her as I smooth her hair out of her face. We decided it would be best if she slept here tonight; or rather, I decided and she went along with it to keep me from camping out on her doorstep overnight to make sure McKenna doesn't show up looking for her. After all, as I oh-so-helpfully reminded her, she's already camped out on mine today.  
  
"Thanks, John," she says, catching my hand and holding it tightly. "For everything."  
  
I nod, intertwining my fingers with hers. "Just try and get some sleep, Alex," I suggest. "Things usually look better in the morning."  
  
I lay a gentle kiss on her forehead and another one on the tip of her nose. It seems only natural to lean in once more and press my lips to hers. Once my lips touch hers, though, it feels like I've come in contact with a live wire. I've dreamed about this for years, and even though the kiss starts out as chaste as is humanly possible, my whole body screams for more. Against my better judgment I open my mouth, tracing her lower lip with my tongue. Her lips part in response, her head tilting to allow me full access to her mouth. Her tongue brushes against mine, tentatively at first and then with more confidence as her hand comes to rest on the nape of my neck. I'm about to throw common sense to the wind and see where this could go when Alex moans softly, jerking me back to reality. The poor woman was traumatized earlier tonight and came to me for help, and this is how I'm repaying her? By taking advantage of her?  
  
I pull away, seeing a flash of confusion on her face before she looks down, avoiding my gaze again.  
  
"Sorry," she says, sounding choked up.  
  
"No, I'm sorry," I reply, wanting to touch her, reassure her, but knowing I won't be able to stop there. "I had no right to do that. I overstepped myself." Standing up, I indulge myself one last time, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear before heading for the couch. "Good night, Alex."  
  
"Night, John," she mutters, rolling over to her side and facing the wall. I sigh, flipping the light off and closing the door behind me.  
  
"Way to screw things up, John," I tell myself once I'm out of hearing range of the bedroom, grabbing a pillow from the hall closet and flopping down onto the couch. "She just wanted your help, and you decided to try and jump her. Well done. Very mature. Let's just hope you haven't destroyed her faith in the NYPD." Shaking my head at my own idiocy, I try to put it out of my mind and go to sleep. What's done is done, and there's nothing I can do to change it now.  
  
-------------------------  
  
John's Apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
Alex  
  
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting back tears. "Way to screw things up, Alex," I tell myself, grabbing the closest pillow and hugging it to my chest. It doesn't help any; the pillow smells like John's cologne. A stray tear makes its way down my cheek, and I swipe viciously at it. "All he was trying to do was help," I mutter, furious with myself. "And you decided to make a pass at him. Brilliant. Good job completely ruining your friendship."  
  
Now bitterly tired as well as sore, I bury my face in the pillow and cry myself to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order:SVU. If I did, Heath Ledger and Brad Pitt would guest-star. Often.  
  
A/N: Again, thank you for the kind reviews. For future reference, I have somewhat arbitrarily decided that John has three ex-wives. I've heard three, four, or five, but four pushes my personal bounds of credibility and five simply makes the mind boggle, so three works for me.  
  
_Edited to add:_ I've decided to bow to canon and give John four wives, personal bounds of credibility notwithstanding. Anyone have any guesses as to their names and the order in which he married/divorced them?  
  
--------------------------------  
  
The next morning  
  
Upper East Side  
  
Manhattan  
  
Alex  
  
The trip to my apartment is awkward. John pays meticulous attention to the traffic as he drives, carefully not looking over at me. I settle for gazing out the window, not really seeing any of the scenery. Part of me is relieved when we finally arrive at my building, but a larger part wishes I could stay in the car all day. Awkward or not, I feel safe with John, and I'm worried about going home. Todd doesn't have a key to my place, but the doormen all know who he is and might let him up.  
  
"Here," John says, extending his hand to me. I put mine out reflexively and he drops something metallic into it. It's a key.  
  
"In case you ever need someplace to go again," he explains, sounding a little embarrassed. "You can come to my place anytime. If I'm not there, just come inside and wait for me."  
  
I stare at the little object for a moment, trying to comprehend the gesture he's just made. I wonder if he knows he's giving me the only thing I can't buy myself in New York: a safe place to hide when the world becomes too much. Acting on impulse, I lean over and throw my arms around him, burying my face in the lapel of his jacket.  
  
"Thanks, John," I whisper, and then pull away. I practically dive out of the car, running up the stairs to my building. John waits until I'm safely inside, the doorman giving me a wink as he holds the door for me, and then drives away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I'm so occupied with them that I almost run into Dave, the other of the two daytime doormen, who's lounging near the elevator.  
  
"Morning, Ms. Cabot," he says, leaning over to push the call button for me. "Late night?"  
  
"Yeah," I agree, distracted. "Hey, Dave, can you do me a favor?"  
  
"For you, Ms. Cabot, anything," he replies with a charming smile.  
  
"You know the guy I've been seeing?"  
  
"Mr. McKenna?" he asks. I nod.  
  
"Tell the guys not to let him up, will you?"  
  
"Sure," he replies, stepping back as the elevator doors open. "Lovers' quarrel, huh?"  
  
"Something like that," I mutter, feeling a knot form in the pit of my stomach. "Thanks, Dave."  
  
The doors slide shut and I press nine, leaning against the wall as I wait for my stop. The elevator makes it to my floor without stopping, and I get safely inside my apartment without seeing any of my neighbors. Taking a moment to be thankful for small favors, I locate my bathrobe and head for the shower.  
  
I shower quickly, choking back tears when I see the bruises Todd left. I've always been proud of my appearance; I work out, eat right, and put effort into looking my best. The dark bruises make me feel violated, like my control over my own body has been taken away. The feeling makes me nauseous.  
  
Resolving to be more considerate of victims' feelings in the future, I finish washing my hair and turn off the water. I blow-dry and apply my makeup in record time, knowing I've got to be in court at nine and wanting the opportunity to get there before anyone else. It's a technique I use to calm myself down when things get stressful; I sit in the empty courtroom and review my notes. The quiet helps me think, and I'm sharper when I review right before trial. It helps make up for my distraction when I'm not fully focused on a case.  
  
----------------------  
  
8:03 AM  
  
District Courthouse  
  
Alex  
  
I'm the first person in the courtroom, and I revel in the rare silence. The only noise is me turning the pages of the Anderson case file. It should be helping me focus, but all I can think about is last night. I'm still in shock over what Todd did, and when I'm not worrying about what his next move will be, I'm wondering whether John Munch and I still have any sort of friendship left after my behavior last night. If only I hadn't tried to make more out of that kiss...all he was trying to do was reassure me, calm me down, and I practically molested the guy.  
  
The courtroom door opens, admitting a couple wearing visitor's badges. They sit down a few rows behind me and I realize I need to get to work. The trial starts in an hour. Putting thoughts of the two men out of my mind, I concentrate on making it through the next few hours and getting a conviction.  
  
----------------------  
  
8:07 AM  
  
Manhattan SVU  
  
John  
  
I've only been at work for half an hour, but already Fin and I are neck-deep in paperwork. We've closed three cases this week, which looks great on our record but leaves us with an ungodly amount of reports to fill out. The one I'm working on now is taking far longer than it should, probably because I can't stop thinking about Alex. I tell myself it's only natural to be worried about her, since McKenna could decide to go after her again, but I have to admit that most of my thoughts aren't centered on him. They're about her, and the time we spent together last night. I still don't know why she came to me instead of Olivia. I mean, I'm glad she did, but of all the detectives in the SVU, she's closest to Olivia. I've always thought it had something to do with them both being women in male-dominated workplaces.  
  
The detective in question comes wandering in, a cup of coffee in her hand and a worn-out expression on her face.  
  
"Sleep well, Olivia?" I ask as she walks past my desk. She gives me a dirty look.  
  
"No," she answers tersely, flopping down in her chair. "Anything else you'd like to know?"  
  
"I'm going to take the fifth, on the grounds that my answer might get me killed."  
  
"Good choice," she advises as her cell phone starts to ring. She mutters a curse and answers it, listening for a moment before hanging up.  
  
"Let's go, Elliot," she calls to her partner, who's walking out of the break room holding a coffee mug of his own. "We've got a case."  
  
He sighs heavily and the two of them head out, trudging through the door like they're walking uphill through a ten-foot snowdrift.  
  
"They're certainly two big bundles of joy this morning," my partner observes, shaking his head.  
  
"Better them than us," I tell him, putting my thoughts of Alex out of my mind and returning my attention to the report in front of me. "Their sunshine-y attitudes make me almost glad to be riding a desk today."  
  
----------------------  
  
12:30 PM  
  
District Courthouse  
  
Alex  
  
The jury comes back with a guilty verdict. I exhale sharply in relief; I wasn't sure they were going to convict. I could have been stronger on the cross-examination of the defendant, but I did get some useful corroboration from the victim's roommates, so I chalk this one up as a job fairly well done.  
  
Shoving the file and my legal pad into my briefcase, I shake the hands of the victim's parents and head outside, contemplating where I should go to eat. I don't have to be in court again today, and I don't mind staying a little late in the office if it means I can take my time and enjoy my lunch. It's a fairly rare occurrence that I get the chance to have lunch at all.  
  
I'm walking down the steps in front of the courthouse and trying to decide whether I want Italian or Greek when a hand grasps my shoulder, nearly sending me out of my skin.  
  
"Take ten years off my life, why don't you," I exclaim, spinning around to face the offender. I'm expecting it to be Casey Novak, who loves to scare me half to death when I'm lost in thought, or Sam Waters, who wanted to see me about a motion he's making on the Cardenas case. Instead, my briefcase falls from suddenly numb fingers as I come face to face with Todd McKenna. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own this show. I also don't own Third Watch, so I apologize for stealing one of their lines.  
  
-------------------------  
  
3:15 PM  
  
Manhattan SVU  
  
John  
  
"So Vanessa's upset because her boyfriend comes home drunk again," Olivia says. I listen in from the next desk as she sums up the details of her latest rape case. "She goes over to his best friend's house to cry on his shoulder and the best friend takes advantage of her. She doesn't resist because she's mad at Michael and looking for revenge, but the next day she realizes what she's done and cries rape? That leaves us with no case."  
  
Elliot shakes his head. "Maybe he didn't rape her, Liv, but the guy's still a class-A jerk. Taking advantage of your best friend's girl while she's crying over him? That's cold."  
  
"He may be a class-A jerk, but there's no class-A felony involved," Cragen informs them. "This is a case for Springer, not SVU. Move on. The Branaugh case is practically begging for the two of you to take a crack at it."  
  
They both nod, Olivia reaching for the file as Elliot grabs his notepad. I turn back to my desk, feeling ill. Todd McKenna and I certainly aren't friends and I didn't seduce Alex last night, but I did kiss her, and in my opinion that ranks me right up there with the 'best friend'. What was I thinking, taking advantage of her like that? How did I become a lowlife scumball without even noticing?  
  
"I can practically hear the gears turning in your head," my partner observes, looking up from his paperwork. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"That there's some serious synagogue time in my future," I reply, morose.  
  
Fin gives me an intrigued look, but my expression must be enough to make him remember what the better part of valor is, because he merely shrugs and returns to work. Not even fifteen seconds after his attention returns to his reports, my phone rings.  
  
"Detective Munch," I snap into the receiver.  
  
"Hey, it's Dan Bromley, Homicide. You're with Special Victims, right?"  
  
I roll my eyes. Bromley's a decent enough guy, but I can only handle him in small doses. He's way too eager to please for my tastes. "Right. Is there something I can do for you, or were you just checking to make sure your departmental roster is up to date?"  
  
"I've got an individual involved in an assault who wants to talk to you. Asked for you by name, in fact. 'Detective Munch, Special Victims Unit'. That's what she said."  
  
"Assault?" I ask, tapping my pen on my desk. "What, is homicide slow today or something?"  
  
I can almost hear him shrug. "I was already down at Bellevue on business. I figured I'd give the uniforms a hand while I was here."  
  
I try my best to quell the urge to do bodily harm to Bromley just for being so damn nice. "How very sporting of you. Does this individual have a name?"  
  
"Cabot," he replies, and I feel my heart jump into my throat. "Alexandra Cabot. The fight was apparently between her and a Todd McKenna. Her name sounds kind of familiar, actually, but I can't remember why."  
  
I curse colorfully, drawing Fin's interested attention. "Look, tell her I'll be there in ten minutes and stay with her until I show up, all right? I mean it. Stick with her and don't let anyone in until I get there."  
  
"Sure thing," he replies, sounding curious but agreeable. My feelings about the brownnosing detective do a one-eighty as I'm flooded with relief at the knowledge that Alex will have someone to look after her until I can get to the hospital.  
  
"Ten minutes," I promise again, and hang up the phone. Grabbing my jacket, I spring out of my chair, Fin hot on my heels as we make for the parking lot.  
  
"It's Alex," I tell him grimly as we jog down the hall. "Dan Bromley called from Bellevue."  
  
Fin chokes, nearly tripping over his own two feet. "Alex is dead?"  
  
I freeze for an instant before I realize where he got the idea. "No, Bromley's just being his helpful self again, taking time off of homicide to work an assault case with some uniforms. Apparently Alex was involved in an altercation with Todd McKenna."  
  
"The hotshot defense lawyer?" Fin asks as we reach the parking garage. I dig through my pockets for the keys, barely holding back an expletive when my partner produces them from his coat and hands them to me with a smirk. "Did a case come to blows in the courtroom or something?"  
  
I don't say anything. I promised Alex I wouldn't. Instead, I grit my teeth and concentrate on seeing how many traffic laws I can break between here and Bellevue.  
  
-----------------------  
  
3:24 PM  
  
Bellevue Hospital ER  
  
John  
  
Alex and Bromley both look up as I sprint into the room, my partner trailing after me. Bromley's leaning against the wall, half-watching the news on the ceiling-mounted TV with the sound turned off. Alex is sitting up in the bed, outfitted in one of the hospital-issue patient gowns, with a vivid purple bruise on her forehead and her left arm cradled in a sling against her chest. For a moment I can't decide whether I should go to Alex or hunt down McKenna, but she makes the decision for me when she sniffles. She's obviously seconds away from a teary breakdown.  
  
I go over and sit on the edge of the bed, reassuring myself that I can always kill McKenna after I'm sure Alex is all right. At the edge of my vision, I can see Fin and Bromley leaving the room. My partner's never been good at dealing with hysterical women, a deficit that he's made abundantly clear to me and the rest of our unit. Right now it suits me just fine; I need to be here for Alex. My partner can keep Bromley occupied.  
  
She tries to sit up straighter as I perch next to her on the bed, but I can tell that even that small movement hurts her. Her smile is strained and awkward, and I want nothing more than to hold her and tell her everything's going to be okay.  
  
"Oh, Alex," I whisper, throwing protocol out the window and wrapping my arms around her. She collapses into my embrace, sobbing. I stroke her hair in a repetitive motion, murmuring anything soothing I can think of and praying she'll calm down enough to tell me what went down between her and McKenna before Fin comes back.  
  
After a few minutes that feel like an eternity, her tears taper off, leaving her red-eyed and half-asleep in my lap. "You want to tell me what happened?" I ask softly, still stroking her hair. She looks up at me and I'm relieved at what I see in her expression. I can tell she's still upset, but I can also see a little of her usual perspicuity.  
  
"When you dropped me off this morning I went to work like usual," she mumbles, so quietly that I have to lean in to hear her. "I was leaving the courthouse for lunch when he showed up on the front steps. He scared me half to death. He started apologizing for last night, saying how sorry he was and how he'd never do it again. Typical domestic abuser garbage." She gives a self-deprecating laugh. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to date him."  
  
"Don't forget that you were smart enough to break it off the first time he hit you," I remind her, praying that last night really was the first time he ever hit her. "And you didn't fall for his line today."  
  
She sighs wordlessly. "Anyway, I told him to get lost. Repeatedly. He kept apologizing, but when I told him I'd get a restraining order if I had to, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. He said that he wasn't going to 'put up with that crap from any bitch'. I realized I was in over my head and I tried to pull away. That's when he slapped me, but he didn't let go of me. I tried to pull away again and he twisted my arm. I was afraid he was going to break it, so I stepped back but he just twisted it harder. I felt something pop in my wrist. I finally managed to jerk my arm away from him, and I pushed him away as hard as I could.  
  
"All I could think about was getting away from him. I...he tripped, fell down the stairs. I didn't see him land; I fell the other way. I tried to get up but I leaned on my arm accidentally. It hurt so much I almost passed out." She sniffles again and I tighten my grasp on her, hoping she's not going to break down again. She recovers herself after a moment and continues, much to my relief. "Casey Novak showed up then. I told her that I had to get out of there, but she just sat down next to me and said I should stay still until the paramedics showed up. I looked over to see if he was coming at me again, but he was still lying on the stairs. Casey said she saw him hit his head..."  
  
"Hey, it's okay now," I promise her, kissing her forehead lightly. "He's not going to get close enough to hurt you again, and if anything happened to him, it was self-defense. Novak can vouch for you."  
  
Alex shakes her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She came outside just in time to see me push him. She didn't see the rest of it."  
  
"Then there are other witnesses," I tell her firmly. "There are always at least two dozen people on the steps of the courthouse at lunchtime."  
  
"Yeah, and some of them have video cameras." That's Fin, standing in the doorway. I didn't even hear him open the door. Alex, flinching closer to me at the unexpected interruption, obviously didn't either.  
  
"Somebody has it on tape?" I ask, taking Alex's good hand and squeezing it reassuringly.  
  
"Guy named Matt Dougan. He's the sheriff of Ainsley, Texas, population three thousand and two. He went down to the station right after it happened and talked to Cragen. Says he and his wife were touring the city for the first time, taking video of all the sights, and they wanted footage of the courthouse 'cause their son just got a job there working as a court clerk."  
  
"Brian Dougan?" Alex guesses. Fin nods. "I met him last week," she explains. "He mentioned his parents were coming into town. He seemed like a nice kid."  
  
"Nice parents, too," Fin replies. "They offered to donate the tape, the camera, and anything else we wanted into evidence, and they said if we want their testimony we've got it." Fin winks at Alex. "I guess you made a good impression on the son."  
  
We both look knowingly at Alex, who's blushing at the implication that the Dougan kid has a crush on her. Occupied with our conversation, none of us see the new arrivals until Elliot knocks on the doorframe. He's standing just inside the door with Olivia in front of him, taking in the scene.  
  
"We heard there was trouble," he says, glancing from Alex to me and back.  
  
"Alex, are you all right?" Olivia asks, ignoring the rest of us and making a beeline for our ADA. I can tell Alex is trying not to start crying again as Olivia sits down next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Alex rests her head on the other woman's shoulder, closing her eyes as silent tears slip down her cheeks. Olivia brushes them away gently, looking over at me with a mix of curiosity and anger. I can understand her fury; none of us have ever seen Alex this low before. I shake my head, letting her know that I can't tell her anything. Alex is going to have to do that herself.  
  
Sighing, Olivia merely sits there and lets Alex cry herself out, murmuring soft encouragement and knowing there isn't anything else she can do. I keep my grip on Alex's hand but return my attention to the two other people in the room. They're speaking quietly, but I can hear them if I listen closely.  
  
"Novak called Cragen," Elliot is explaining to Fin. "We got here as fast as we could. What's the prognosis?"  
  
Fin sighs. "He broke her wrist and tore something in her elbow. Doc says she's not gonna be using that arm for six to eight weeks."  
  
"Son of a bitch," Elliot says flatly. "Do we know why he did it?"  
  
"I haven't asked yet," Fin replies. "John might know."  
  
"It was my fault," Alex says, obviously overhearing their conversation. She pulls away from Olivia to sit up on her own.  
  
"Alex, it was not your fault," I tell her firmly, catching her gaze and holding it. "None of this is your fault. You hear me?"  
  
"If I'd reported it the first time, this wouldn't have happened."  
  
"Maybe not," I retort. "Maybe you were right and the charges would have been dismissed for lack of evidence, and he would've been free to go after you again. This time we've got him."  
  
"Alex, what 'first time'?" Olivia asks, touching her shoulder lightly to get her attention. "Has he hit you before?"  
  
She tries to take a deep breath, but it turns into a sob. "Yesterday," she admits, dropping her gaze to the floor. "We've been – dating, for a few months. Yesterday he pushed me into a door. It wasn't anything like this, though." She rubs her eyes tiredly. "I should have reported it. I was so stupid."  
  
"No," I say sharply. All the heads in the room swing around to look at me, including Alex's. "Alex, you made a smart move last night. You did the right thing."  
  
She looks up at me with wounded blue eyes, and I swear I'd kill or die to make her happy again.  
  
"John, you were right. I should have reported it. This is my fault."  
  
I release her hand and lean toward her, pulling her into my embrace. She comes willingly, resting her forehead on my chest as her good arm wraps around me in a tight hug.  
  
"If that's true, Alex, I'm as guilty as you are."  
  
She shakes her head, loosening her grip on me. "No, I made you promise –"  
  
"Wait." Elliot sounds angry. "You knew about this, John?"  
  
I stiffen, feeling Alex flinch. The last thing she needs right now is for one of us to get mad, and as a SVU detective, Elliot should know better. If I don't get to be pissed off about this, neither does he.  
  
"Yeah, I did. You think you could tone it down a little?"  
  
"No," he fires back harshly. "You knew this guy was after Alex and you didn't do anything about it? How could you let this happen?"  
  
"Don't," Alex pleads, perilously close to tears for the third time in fifteen minutes. "Please don't blame John."  
  
Elliot's preparing to give me what-for despite Alex's protests when Olivia springs up, grabbing her partner's arm and dragging him toward the other side of the room.  
  
"Tap your helmet, Stabler," she snarls, releasing him once she's shoved him out the door. "What the hell are you thinking?"  
  
We can't hear his response, but the sounds of their argument are faintly audible. Fin turns to the two of us, Alex still clinging to me for dear life, and shrugs.  
  
"Guy's been wound a little tight lately," he confides to Alex, sitting down in the visitor's chair and leaning back, the picture of nonchalant relaxation. Alex starts to relax in an unconscious response to his body language. At least one of us is using our Special Victims training. "You know, with his wife splitting on him and everything. We've got to cut him some slack."  
  
Alex's jaw drops. "I had no idea," she says, glancing over at me before returning her full attention to Fin. "She walked out?"  
  
"Ran off, actually," I inform her. "With the kids' math tutor."  
  
"Ouch," she mutters. "Well, maybe now he and Olivia can finally get it together." Fin and I exchange disbelieving looks and Alex rolls her eyes. "Oh, right, like the two of you didn't see it coming."  
  
"That's not it," Fin says. "When John heard about it, he said the exact same thing."  
  
I look down at Alex, who's smiling faintly. "You know what they say about great minds," I reply, with just the right amount of exaggerated arrogance to earn me a laugh from the woman in my arms.  
  
"They think a lot?" she guesses. Fin snorts.  
  
"Yeah, that must be it," he says, his tone indicating the opposite. "Alex, are you pressing charges against McKenna?"  
  
The question comes out of left field, forcing Alex to respond without having time to agonize over it. Score another one for my partner, who's handling this better than the rest of us combined.  
  
"Yeah," she replies, toying with the strap of the sling. "Yeah, of course."  
  
He shrugs, still looking unconcerned by the whole thing. "We should probably get your statement taken care of, then. We've got four currently unoccupied detectives running around the building. Any preference?"  
  
A smile creeps onto her face. "Anybody but Stabler. I vote we leave him to his nervous breakdown."  
  
"Second," I chime in. Fin winks at me.  
  
"John, why don't you go see if Stabler has killed Benson yet? Alex and I will take care of business in here."  
  
"Sounds good," I reply, realizing that my partner knows I'm emotionally involved with this situation. If we're going to get a good, impartial statement, I can't be the one taking it.  
  
I give Alex's hand one last squeeze and head for the door, watching out of the corner of my eye as Fin produces a notebook from his pocket. Once I'm outside the room and out of their line of sight, I lean back against the wall, trying to come to terms with my rage over what happened to Alex. I'm furious with myself for not keeping an eye on her today, and I'd really like five minutes alone in a room with McKenna. I've been standing there for at least fifteen minutes, beating myself up for letting this happen, when Stabler and Benson show up.  
  
"So, did you take a cold shower?"  
  
"I'm sorry, John," Elliot replies, looking properly contrite. "I shouldn't have gone off like that. It was inappropriate."  
  
"I guess we'll keep you anyway," I tell him. It's as much of an apology as I'm going to give him, and he realizes that and accepts it for what it is.  
  
"We checked on McKenna," Olivia says. I glance over at her.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And he's in a coma," Elliot informs me. "Apparently he took a blow to the head."  
  
"Alex said Novak saw him hit his head on the courthouse steps."  
  
"That'd do it," Olivia agrees. "Docs think he'll probably come out of it, but it won't be today. We've got the uniforms who picked up the case hanging out in the ICU, waiting for him to come around so they can arrest him."  
  
"She is pressing charges, right?" Elliot asks quietly, obviously not wanting to push the issue with me after our earlier tête-à-tête.  
  
"Fin's taking her statement now," I reply. "I followed your example and decided to take a walk."  
  
"You know you can't blame yourself, John," Olivia says, sounding tired. "You had no idea he would try anything with her again, or that the level of violence would escalate so fast."  
  
"Maybe," I mutter. "I still feel responsible."  
  
"News flash, John," says Elliot, clapping me on the shoulder. "So do the rest of us. We all love Alex. The fact that something like this happened to her on our collective watch is hitting us all pretty hard."  
  
"She's going to need us to back her up for a while," Olivia adds, giving her partner a firm look. "We're going to have to put aside our personal feelings about this and just be there for her."  
  
"I read you," Stabler tells her grudgingly. I nod as well; she's right. Alex has to be our first priority.  
  
Fin comes out of Alex's room, closing the door behind him. "She's getting dressed," he explains, answering our collective unasked question. "I'm finished with her statement. She's doing all right."  
  
"Good," Elliot sighs. "I could take her home –"  
  
"I'll do it," I interject. Elliot and Olivia trade glances, his inquisitive, hers quelling, and finally he shrugs.  
  
"Tell her to call if she needs anything?"  
  
"That goes double for me," Olivia puts in.  
  
I nod at both of them and they head for the exit. Fin and I look at each other for a moment, and then he straightens up.  
  
"You know, John, I think I'll catch a ride back to the station with those two. You just worry about getting Alex home in one piece."  
  
"Thanks, Fin," I say, but he waves me off.  
  
"I'll call you if I hear anything more about McKenna," he replies, and takes off after Olivia and Elliot. I wait a few moments and then knock on the door to Alex's room.  
  
"Come in," she calls. I walk in to find her fumbling with the top button on her shirt, trying to fasten it with only one hand. I contemplate going over and helping her, but decide that she needs the chance to prove she's still able to function independently. If she wants help, she'll ask. She gets the button taken care of a second later and glances up at me.  
  
"Now what?" she asks.  
  
"Now we get out of here," I reply. "My place or yours tonight?"  
  
"You don't have to-"  
  
"I know. But if I'm not with you, I'm going to spend the whole night worrying about you."  
  
She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Your place," she says finally. I don't ask for an explanation of her choice. I merely pick up her winter coat, waiting for her nod of acquiescence before helping her slide her good arm into the sleeve and resting the other side of the coat on her shoulder. After I've finished buttoning it up, I reach for her scarf and hand it to her. She wraps it securely around her neck, smiling ruefully.  
  
"I know it's not even December yet, but I hate the cold," she admits. I chuckle.  
  
"And you live in New York why?" I ask teasingly. She shrugs.  
  
"The ambiance," she offers, with a lopsided smile. "And the people."  
  
I wink at her, holding the door as we head for the admitting desk to sign her out so that I can take her home. 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I'd like to think that if I owned the series, I'd know a little more about the character's canon lives.  
  
A/N: Okay, I admit it. I've only seen, like, fifteen episodes of this show. Unfortunately, none of them involved much background information on Alex, John, or Casey, so I made up my own. I know it's naughty, but I couldn't help myself. For this story, let's pretend Casey and Alex both work for the DA's office and have for some time. Casey works on something innocuous, like corporate law. For future reference, if anyone would like to tell me exactly how Casey ended up working SVU cases, that would be wonderful. Also, does anyone know the District Attorney's name? Is that Alex's immediate boss? I haven't the slightest idea.  
  
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John's apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
John  
  
Alex flops down on the couch, curling up next to the armrest and closing her eyes.  
  
"How are you feeling?" I ask, resting a gentle hand on her knee.  
  
"Sore," she replies, cradling her injured arm against her chest. "Tired and sore and stupid."  
  
I shake my head, sitting down next to her. "You're not stupid, Alex. You're the smartest woman I've ever met."  
  
"Then I feel bad for the rest of the women you know," she mutters as she glances over at me, her tone thick with self-recrimination.  
  
"Alex." I sigh, rubbing her knee. "What is it that you think you did that was so stupid? We already talked about the decision not to report what happened yesterday, so it has to be something else."  
  
She tries to smile, but her eyes give away her frustration. "I dated the guy for three months, John. Even if he never took a swing at me, he still treated me like crap, and I stuck around and put up with it. You know I spend every day working on cases dealing exclusively in special victims, many of whom are victims of domestic abuse. What the hell was wrong with me that I missed all the warning signs and stayed with him long enough for it to escalate into something like this?"  
  
"Why do you think you stayed?" I ask her, careful not to reveal my own curiosity. That's something I've been wondering about ever since I found out he wasn't toeing the line with her.  
  
"I guess I didn't want to admit I'd made a bad decision," she confesses, rubbing her forehead with her good hand. "And I was sick of being alone. I hadn't seriously dated anyone since I started working for the DA's office. I knew that if I broke it off with Todd, I'd go right back to being lonely all the time." She sighs. "I guess even though I was miserable, it was a change from being lonely."  
  
"That's not dumb, Alex, it's completely understandable." She gives me a sharp look and I shrug. "My third wife was a complete bitch, but if I didn't come home at night, at least she wondered where I was."  
  
"Exactly," she exclaims, throwing up her uninjured hand in exasperation. "Why can't I find a guy who's willing to date me and doesn't have a fatal character flaw?"  
  
I laugh, trying to cover for the way my heart lurches when she asks that question. "Maybe you're not looking in the right place."  
  
Alex gives me a considering look. "Maybe you're right." She sighs then, her gaze dropping to the floor. "For example, trying to take advantage of my friends, who are only trying to help me, probably isn't the best way to go about it. I really am sorry about that kiss last night, John. I'm pleading not guilty by reason of mental defect. Can you forgive me?"  
  
I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. She wants me to forgive her for something I did.  
  
"There's nothing to forgive, Alex."  
  
"Yeah, there is," she insists, giving me a pleading look. "I really want to clear the air between us, John. I don't want to ruin our friendship just because I have some stupid grade-school crush on you."  
  
With that one sentence, our conversation is suddenly pushing the bounds of reality.  
  
"You what?"  
  
She blushes, which is about the cutest thing I've ever seen. "It's stupid, really. But you're, you know, a great guy. You actually have a sense of humor, which is more than I can say for any guy I've ever dated, and you're – well, you're you. And I'm babbling like an idiot. Anyway, I'm sorry."  
  
I can't help the wide smile that takes over my face. "You have a crush on me?"  
  
She shrugs, her blush deepening.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"So what would you say," I ask carefully, unable to believe my luck, "if I wanted to know if you'd like to go out sometime?"  
  
Alex winces. "You don't have to indulge me, John."  
  
"Indulge you? Alex, I was the one who kissed you last night, not the other way around, remember?"  
  
"You didn't do it because you were...interested...in me. Things got carried away and you had to sleep on the couch to keep from hurting my feelings, which was sweet but wholly unnecessary."  
  
I can feel my jaw drop in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I've had a thing for you since day one. I went into your office to get a warrant for Radial Velocity and I walked out head over heels for you. I have been fighting the urge to push you up against a wall - or a desk or a table or whatever else happens to be handy, actually - and have my wicked way with you for over a year and a half. I slept on the couch last night because I figured the last thing you needed at that point was me trying to take advantage of you."  
  
"Really?" she asks, the hope in her voice so blatant it's almost painful. "But why?"  
  
"Why?" I repeat, still not sure this is really happening. "Because you're beautiful, Alex. And you're smart, and you're funny, and you're a decent, kind person but you still kick some serious ass in the courtroom. I look at you and I see everything I've ever wanted in a woman."  
  
She's silent for a long moment. "Then kiss me," she says finally. "Kiss me and prove it."  
  
So I do. 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Oh, you know as well as I do that I don't own the show.  
  
A/N: Here's an itsy bitsy chapter for you. I'm still trying to decide exactly what's going to happen next, but I know how it's going to end, and I'll bet you do too.  
  
_Edited to add_: I love you guys! Now at least I have some actual canon details on which to base the story. I apologize to anyone adversely affected by my inability to keep city/state/area names straight. I think it has something to do with my hopeless lack of map-reading skills; just be glad you'll never have to ride in a car with me as your navigator. Annebd, you've gone and tempted me into starting another story. Now I'll _never_ get this one done! ;-)  
  
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The next morning  
  
John's apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
John  
  
For the first time in a very long while, I don't wake up alone. The woman next to me is still asleep, her head resting on my chest and a contented smile on her beautiful face. I take a moment to cement this in my memory: our first morning waking up together. Hopefully, it's the first of many more to come.  
  
I have to admit, though, I wouldn't mind it if some of those future mornings included a little nudity. I think Alex would've gone along with it if I'd pushed her to take things further than just kissing last night, but I don't want our relationship to involve me pushing her into anything, especially considering the way McKenna treated her. Instead, we made out on the couch for a while, and when she started looking tired I called a halt to things, declaring that it was past both our bedtimes.  
  
She's half-covered by my dark green comforter, her legs hopelessly tangled in the sheets. Underneath the blanket she's wearing one of my old grey t-shirts from the Baltimore PD and sweatpants the hospital gave her, but somehow she still looks as gorgeous as she usually does in a suit jacket and skirt. She took off the sling when we went to bed, but her arm is cradled protectively against her chest even in her sleep. I'm grateful that the docs decided to put her wrist in a brace instead of a cast; I know how uncomfortable casts are, and the added weight would've put an extra strain on her elbow.  
  
The wrist brace is flesh-colored fabric over steel supports, held on with enough Velcro to fasten at least fifty kids' shoes. The brace on her elbow is all metal, with one hinged support on either side of her arm and three thin metal bands connecting them. Just looking at her arm makes me angry all over again, but I remind myself that it could be worse. She could've been the one to hit her head and end up in a coma.  
  
My cell phone rings, shattering the early-morning quiet of my bedroom. I grab it off of the nightstand, silencing the ringer and glancing down at Alex. She's still fast asleep. Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, I go into the hallway and answer the call.  
  
"Munch."  
  
"Good morning, Sunshine."  
  
"Since when did wake-up calls become a service you offer?" I demand, ready to strangle my partner. "It's five in the morning, Fin."  
  
"McKenna just woke up, too," he replies. "In fact, he was about as grouchy as you are. The first four words out of his mouth were 'I want a lawyer'. The next four were 'I'll kill that bitch'. I told him if he didn't exercise his right to remain silent, I'd rip out his tongue. He hasn't been very forthcoming since."  
  
"Bastard," I mutter. "I'd take that as a threat against Alex's life, wouldn't you?"  
  
"I would, and so would the nurse who was in the room when he said it." Fin snorts. "In spite of his stellar reputation, our man Todd really isn't all that bright."  
  
"Who did the DA's office assign to the case?"  
  
"The DA is taking the case himself," Fin replies. "Branch said Alex is one of his people, and nobody screws with his people and gets away with it."  
  
"I think I could really learn to like that guy. Do you need Alex for anything yet?"  
  
"Nah. We've got her statement. She'll need to ID McKenna in a lineup, but he won't be out of the hospital until this afternoon. Is she still asleep?"  
  
"That woman could sleep through World War 3," I inform him. "A talent I wish I possessed, because then I'd be sleeping instead of chatting with you."  
  
"So go back to bed," he says. I can hear poorly-concealed amusement in his voice. "Cragen wants you to take some personal time today and make sure Alex is coping, so don't bother coming in unless you're bringing Alex for the lineup. When she wakes up, have her call Cragen and work something out."  
  
"Done," I agree, and he hangs up on me without further adieu. I'm relieved that I'm not going to have to contrive an excuse to miss work today. I'm sure Cragen wouldn't buy whatever story I came up with, but I'm not willing to leave Alex alone until I'm sure she's all right by herself, so it's just as well he's giving me the day off.  
  
True to form, Alex is sleeping peacefully when I return to the bedroom. I set my phone back on the charger and slip under the covers. After a moment's hesitation I rest my arm around her waist. The hem of the shirt she borrowed from me must have migrated upward during the night, because the silky-soft skin of her lower back is exposed. I trail my fingers across it, reveling in the sensation.  
  
"Mmm, John," she murmurs, shifting in my grasp. "Your fingers are freezing."  
  
"Sorry," I whisper, starting to pull my hand away.  
  
"No." She squints up at me, smiling sleepily. "It feels good."  
  
"Well, in that case," I reply with a wink, and return my hand to her back. She makes a little noise of contentment and closes her eyes, lifting her head just far enough to brush a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth before letting it fall back down onto the pillow. I lean in to kiss her again and realize she's already asleep. Smiling fondly, I decide to follow her example and catch a few more hours' sleep.  
  
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Two hours later  
  
John's apartment  
  
Brooklyn  
  
Alex  
  
I wake up slowly, confused by my unfamiliar surroundings. I try to raise my arm to run a hand through my hair, and the resulting agony that shoots through my wrist brings yesterday's events back to me quickly. First my confrontation with Todd, which resulted in my visit to the hospital, and then my discussion with John, the result of which was much more pleasant than the broken arm Todd gave me. John and I talked for a while, I admitted I was falling for him, and to my complete shock he reciprocated.  
  
Kissing him was even better than I'd hoped it would be. I have to admit, though, that I was relieved when he brought things to a halt and told me we should get some sleep. I wouldn't have said no if he'd tried to take it further, but I know deep down I'm not ready for that yet. I'd trust John with my life, but I need some time to get over the shock of what Todd did to me before I can trust anyone with my heart.  
  
In the meantime, I want to get to know John better. I know the odd things I've picked up over the years, from watching and listening in on conversations I probably wasn't intended to hear, but my knowledge base has gaping holes in it. I know that he has four different ex-wives, but I don't know anything about them, or about why he fell in love with them. I don't know when they were married or why they broke up. I heard John telling Fin about his brother, but I don't know the brother's name, or whether he's older or younger. It's these little details, which seem so unimportant to learn about people with which one has a strictly working relationship, that made him into the man he is today. Since I'm well on my way to being in love with that man, I'd like to learn those details.  
  
Resolving to have a nice long talk with John about his personal life, I turn my head and come nose to chin with the man in question. He's fast asleep, one arm tucked around me as he dozes. In sleep he looks more peaceful than I've ever seen him, and although I spend half a second contemplating waking him up, I just can't bring myself to do it. I know he couldn't have slept well last night since he was relegated to the couch, and I don't want to further contribute to his sleep deprivation. Instead, I move my gaze to the ceiling and contemplate my current circumstances as I wait for him to wake up. 


End file.
